


Skin Is Unpleasantly Soft and Hair Kinda Sucks Too

by ckret2



Category: Godzilla (2014), Godzilla - All Media Types, Godzilla: King of The Monsters (2019)
Genre: Alien Experimentation, Gen, Gijinka, Human Transformation, Humanized, Transformation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2020-12-27 09:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21116747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ckret2/pseuds/ckret2
Summary: For reasons as yet unknown (the reason is aliens), Godzilla, Mothra, and Ghidorah have been transformed from three kaiju into five confused, suspicious, and naked humans.And of course, Monarch's gotta deal with it.(Written as a series of one-off chapters w/ no plot goals, so don't take the fact that there isn't a listed number of intended chapters to mean that it isn't "finished" because that might be all it ends up being. There's no destination here, only the journey.)





	1. Godzilla Falls Over Four Times

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted August 8. Written to the prompt: "Write a story of a magical transformation" "Actually more specific (about the magical transformation) godzilla turning into a human but after the sun sets that sort of thing"
> 
> I briefly threatened to write a reverse Shrek AU but then instead I decided to take advantage of the prompt to write a kaiju gijinka AU idea I'd had.

Godzilla hoped his roar shook the three-headed invader to its bones.

He had bites on his neck and arms, slashes across his chest, and his throat was raw from screaming and blasting at the invader. They had been fighting since before dawn, and the sun was nearly setting now. He burned with exhaustion—but he wasn’t weakened. No. He couldn’t afford to be weak. Too much was on the line for that.

Behind him, barely hatched from her egg, he could feel Mothra touching his mind to encourage him, support him—but not able to do much more, unless she got close enough that she could get a good silk shot at the invader. He didn’t want her to try. The invader had smashed too many of her eggs already; Godzilla didn’t know if she had any left. If he didn’t protect her here and now, he might never have another chance.

The invader’s necks swayed and waved, like three golden sea serpents gliding through the deep.

The last of Godzilla’s roar faded, drifting away over the ocean, no mountains on this flat island for it to echo against. It was replaced by the sound of the surf and the circling human-made metal birds above observing the battle.

The invader roared back, three eerie alien shrieks. Godzilla could see his own blood in one of its mouths.

He didn’t give it a chance to finish its roar. He charged, meaning to sink his teeth into the middle neck, the plates on his back already beginning to glow.

###

“The sun is setting,” one said. Xir voice was quiet, flat, and cold, and yet still seemed too loud in the dark space ship. “They’re not moving further west. This is the maximum amount of solar radiation we are capable of exposing them to without restarting the operation again. Shall we proceed to phase three?”

Phase one had been creating a “lens,” so to speak, in outer space between this Sun 185,762 and its Planet 3. The “lens” consisted of billions of tiny crystals, unnoticeable to the inhabitants of Planet 3, but drastically altering the kind of radiation that the star gave off—turning it into a radiation with the power to physically transform the planet’s largest inhabitants.

Phase two had been manipulating the most dangerous of said planet’s largest inhabitants into chasing each other all day, racing westward across the surface of the planet, so that they would follow the sun as it traveled across the sky and absorb far more than the usual daily dose of radiation. Today, Monster 0 and Monster 1 had been in the sunlight for twenty hours. It had taken numerous attempts to get this far—this was Phase 2 Attempt 38, in fact—because of Monster 0’s tendency to create cloud cover wherever it went.

Phase three was taking advantage of this radiation.

Their projections had called for a full 24 hours for maximum effectiveness, but it had taken so long just to get up to 20. They couldn’t afford to waste more time. And 20 was within their acceptable range.

The one in control of this operation nodded. “Proceed to phase three,” xe said. As xir underlings worked their controls, xe added, “We will deal with any side effects of their low dosage as they come up. Begin preparing contingency plans.”

A dull white beam of light shot out from their ship toward Planet 3, vanishing invisibly in the atmosphere. “Bring up the surveillance feeds,” xe said. Holographic live feeds, sent from their spies mixed with the primitive aircraft circling the battle far below, displayed above their consoles. They all watched quietly.

###

One of the invader’s heads had squeezed its jaws around Godzilla’s throat—not enough to strangle, but enough to keep him from blasting the vile creature like it deserved. He could feel static against the side of his face as another prepared to electrocute him. He let go of his grip on the middle throat and clawed the threatening head away, bellowing, trying to get a good enough grip on it to break its jaw—

And then something he couldn’t see hit him.

It felt like he was floating in air, and the world vanished.

###

“Phase three successfully completed,” one said. “Monsters 0 and 1 have been neutralized. Nearby instance of Monster 3 also appears to have been neutralized.”

The leader nodded in satisfaction. “Report this in,” xe said. “We will await orders to proceed to phase four.”

Phase four. Full invasion.

###

Godzilla’s senses came back to him slowly. He was face down flat on the ground. His scales felt raw and soft, like he’d been cooked alive; and the sensation was so strange it took him a moment to realize that his earlier bites and scratches didn’t hurt at all.

He opened his eyes. His vision swam—everything looked distorted somehow, in a way he couldn’t make sense of—had he been hit on the head? How badly?

He got his claws under him and tried to push himself to his feet. The attempt was too successful; instead of leveraging himself partway up, he flung himself from lying on his chest to lying on his back. He grimaced, wondering what the hell was wrong with—

Wait, “on his back”? Where were his back plates?

Why couldn’t he feel his tail?

He rolled onto his side, and saw his claws for the first time—not claws. Even in the faded light, he could see that. Hands. Soft and flat, with long sausage-like fingers, connected to arms that were far too long, arms that were connected to—

He scrambled to his feet, whining in horror at the sight of his body—even his whine sounded wrong, high and nasally and weak. One of the human-made birds above focused a light on him, blinding him for a moment—when he adjusted to the light, and could properly see all the smooth squishy brown flesh where his hard gray hide was supposed to be, he had to shut his eyes, dizzy.

He kept having to adjust his balance with his arms, unsure how to totter on two feet without a tail to support him. What happened to him? He looked like a bald ape. Or maybe—no, that wasn’t possible—he didn’t think he’d ever seen a human with all its clothes off, but based on what he _had_ seen of them, perhaps...

He looked frantically around the island, and almost fell onto his back again. What had once seemed like slight unevennesses in the ground, swells that barely came up to his ankle, were now hills towering over him. He’d shrunk. He really was human.

Which meant there was no one to protect—

He spun around so fast he fell down, yelping. (Oh, gross, a bunch of hair had fallen in his face. He smacked it out of the way.) His heart threatened to leap out of his chest when he saw Mothra’s cracked eggshell was empty, the larva taken—where?!

But no. Just in front of the shell, crouched down, knees pulled to chest and arms wrapped around knees, was another human. An even tinier human. Was that—?

He tried to roar her name. It hurt his throat so bad he coughed and wheezed. Her voice was just as mangled and garbled, but he could barely make out his own name. Relieved, he flopped to the ground yet again. (Ow, the back of his head was weak.) She was still safe.

Ha. “Safe.” Was this safe? Being human? Could she make any more eggs as a human? And how did this happen?! And what about the invader, where did it—

Something behind him let out a raw shriek.

He scrambled back to his feet. He had to push the gross hair dropping from his head out of his eyes again.

There were three more humans, arms locked together so tightly they might well be attached to each other, looking between each other’s faces, hissing and gibbering to each other in a panic.

When he stood, though, they fell silent, turning toward him. They were roughly the same height as Godzilla, but paler even than Mothra’s new body, so pale they almost glowed. And as annoying as Godzilla’s hair was, at least it wasn’t as long as these humans’, hanging down below their knees in messy yellowish curtains.

The middle human tightened its grips on the other two, and hissed. They dropped into half crouches together, bending low, like they were preparing to charge. Their long hair rippled behind them as they moved.

Their manes swayed and waved, like three golden sea serpents gliding through the deep.

Still here.

And now they outnumbered him and Mothra. Oh no. He wasn’t going to let that happen.

Godzilla roared so hard he could feel his voice starting to give out. The three humans shrieked back, new voices high and piercing. And then he charged at them, half running and half falling forward, determined to get the middle one’s throat between his square teeth.

###

The Monarch monitoring ship had been dead silent for almost five minutes, watching the feed of the battle on the island.

At the first sight of blood dripping to the sand between the weird new combatants, Coleman shook out of his trance, and turned to look at Serizawa. “Uh…”

Serizawa had his mouth cradled contemplatively in one hand. His eyes were completely bugged out.

“So,” Coleman said weakly. “So, uh, what… what should we… uh… do.”

Serizawa didn’t answer for a moment. He let go of his face to gesture at their former titans; opened his mouth; shut his mouth; gestured again; put his hand back over his mouth; and gestured for a third time. “Well,” he said.

Coleman waited for Serizawa to say more. When he didn’t, Coleman nodded in enthusiastic agreement.

“Well,” Serizawa said again, “obviously, we should… go bring them some blankets.”

Coleman blinked, and looked again at the… very naked humans.

“Oh,” he said. “Yeah.”

Serizawa took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. “Land the ship,” he finally said. “Let’s go introduce ourselves.”


	2. Chapter 2

Dr. Chen had been been staring at Mothra for the past ten minutes, ignoring the discussion around her. She hardly noticed that Serizawa had come up beside her until he spoke. “Your thoughts?”

“She looks almost like my daughters,” Dr. Chen said softly. “Her skin’s darker, but other than that…”

Serizawa nodded. “I had the same thought,” he said. “Perhaps she copied them, somehow?”

“‘Copied,’” Dr. Chen repeated. “Like she chose her appearance. Do you think she did? Did any of them choose their appearances?”

A good question. One of the _many_ questions that had passed through both Dr. Chen’s and Serizawa’s heads over the past hour.

Godzilla was built like a Polynesian wrestler—Rick had taken the opportunity while escorting him somewhere safe to slap a sticker name tag that read “_Hello, my name is_… God ‘The Rock’ Zilla” on his blanket, and everyone got it even though his mane of black hair killed most of the resemblance—which made sense, didn’t it? It made sense for him to be built like professional warrior. But why should Godzilla, turned into a human, have a body that “made sense” to humans? And on what “sense” was he operating? Why shouldn’t he be covered in scars, to mimic his scales and to mark his battles? Why shouldn’t he be built like a swimmer instead of a wrestler? What had decided the length of his hair?

And under that logic, if Godzilla was built like a warrior, shouldn’t Ghidorah be, too? Instead they were three tall, narrow women, with pallid skin and distrustful eyes and long hair that was already busily tangling into knots. Dr. Russell, whose primary form of movie consumption for the last fifteen years had been in the form of children’s cartoons, had commented that they looked like “three Rapunzels left alone in the tower until they went feral.” They had the builds of marathon runners or high jumpers: bodies and muscles that were long and stringy. Not built for combat. So why was that prioritized? Why were they three people instead of, say, three-headed? Or conjoined? When Ghidorah and Godzilla were thousands or millions of years old, why did they look to be in their twenties or thirties, while Mothra, who’d hatched only a few hours ago, looked like a kindergartener rather than a newborn?

Why did Mothra look so much like Dr. Chen’s daughters had at age five, with their wispy black hair and curious eyes and round cheeks?

Dr. Chen stared through the window and wondered.

The ex-titans obviously needed to be contained—they’d been trying to kill each other that very day—but Monarch ships didn’t exactly have brigs. They’d found a room with large observation windows that was intended to be a lab but had yet to be filled with anything but tables, and stored the ex-titans in there.

It had been a challenge just to get them that far. Simply pulling Godzilla and Ghidorah—the Ghidorahs?—off of each other had taken several attempts. Monarch was full of hopeless nerds, and although Godzilla and the Ghidorahs were only newly human and incredibly uncoordinated, they had muscles like they’d been training them for twenty years. Even after being pulled apart, Godzilla and the Ghidorahs had continued struggling against the humans until they’d had blankets wrapped around them, at which point they had apparently realized they were being helped and calmed down—at least enough to accept the blankets.

Godzilla had willingly trudged inside with his human escorts. The Ghidorahs—who had insistently shared a single blanket too small to properly cover them all rather than accept three blankets over each of their shoulders—had scrambled away from the humans and up to the highest ground they could reach, losing their blanket in the process; and they’d remained there as the night chill set in, standing, shivering, and naked, until they gave up and trudged down to claim the blanket that Monarch had left at the entrance to the ship as bait.

Mothra had been the easiest to corral: she’d sat waiting for the humans to come to her, accepted her blanket, and wrapped it around herself like a cloak. She’d poked a hand out of the top of her cloak, reached for Serizawa, taken his hand, and walked in with no fear and no struggle. She’d even cooperated when Dr. Chen, who couldn’t stand what looked like a little girl walking around in nothing but a blanket, had taken her aside and dressed her in an oversized t-shirt.

(Holding a blanket closed was something none of the others knew how to do—instead, they let their blankets dangle loosely and attempted to hunch their shoulders to keep them on, leaving their entire fronts exposed. Monarch was attempting to have decency on their behalf by not looking too closely. A few of them were starting to wonder if the ex-titans would interpret the averted eyes as some kind of display of deference, and whether it would be a plus or a minus if they did.)

And now there they all were in the empty lab. All three of them—or five of them, maybe. Godzilla and the Ghidorahs huddling in opposite corners, Mothra toddling around near Godzilla and improving her coordination on two legs with every minute.

“In all the stories you’ve studied,” Serizawa murmured, “have you ever heard of anything like this?”

Dr. Chen opened her mouth, but took a long moment before she said anything. “Therianthropy is common in belief systems all over the world—humans turning into animals—as are figures that disguise themselves as humans. Werewolves, messenger angels, the huli jing—or kitsune… The Egyptian gods that we interpret as animal-headed were actually intended to be seen as inhabiting both an animal form and a humanoid form at the same time. There _is_ precedent. But, in the mythology of any creatures we have identified as titans…” Dr. Chen frowned uncertainly. “There are some legends of Mothra that suggest she may have human forms. I’ve always interpreted those legends as referring to human representatives who speak for her, but I could have been wrong. I’d have to look for more.”

“I’m sure you will find something,” Serizawa said. “If this has happened before, and if humans ever witnessed it…”

Dr. Chen nodded. “We would have found a way to remember and record it.”

Godzilla and Mothra occasionally spoke to each other in some hissy, raspy, growly, shrieky language that Monarch was, of course, eagerly recording. Godzilla had spent most of his time in the lab crouched near the floor, constantly losing his balance and toppling backwards—missing his tail, no doubt—and every few minutes trying to swipe his hair back out of his face. A biologist had tentatively approached him to try to offer her headband, but he’d roared at her when she got close; Mothra had taken the headband and Godzilla let her fix it in place without so much as a growl.

In contrast to the two more active titans, the Ghidorahs—who had eventually been given a king sized blanket that could drape over them comfortably—were huddled tensely together on the floor, with their elbows linked and wrists twisted and fingers interlaced. They were much quieter than the other two titans, occasionally whispering inaudibly to each other but otherwise silent. The most noise they’d made so far was when the one on the left had nearly tugged away from the group to examine something. The middle had jerked him—her? fraction-of-them?—back before she—she, then—could break their hands, and had punitively bitten her on the ear; and she’d shrieked in pain. The middle one had been apologetically licking the left one’s ear ever since. Every time the trio moved, it seemed like they tried to find a way to press their shoulders closer together.

Serizawa sighed. “Well. Now is as good a time as any to talk to them.”

Dr. Chen stared at him. “_Talk_ to them?”

“We have to open up communications,” he said. “We cannot simply corral them around, like animals in a zoo. We need to speak to them—to learn their language, or teach them ours—and cooperate with each other to decide how to handle this situation. And it starts by talking to them, even if they don’t understand us yet.”

“What if they…?” Dr. Chen’s gaze moved to the Ghidorahs—in her view, the far likelier source of any potential assault.

“I’ll be near the door,” Serizawa said. “I’ll be fine.”

She nodded. “Be careful.”

All five heads swiveled to face Serizawa when he stepped into the lab. “Good evening,” he said, like some kind of person who wasn’t trying to have a conversation with three titans that had been mysteriously transformed into humans. “Gojira, Mosura, Gidora.” He nodded to each in turn. Mothra nodded back. “My name is Serizawa Ishiro—a representative of the organization Monarch, which hopes to foster cooperation between humanity and your kind, the titans. I welcome you all aboard our ship.”

They gave him totally impassive looks.

Expecting that, he went on anyway. “As long as you are with us, we hope that you will feel like guests—not prisoners. While we would like to give you all medical exams soon—as much for your own health and welfare as for our own edification—our _first_ priority is seeing to your comfort, and we don’t want to inflict any sort of examinations on you that you don’t understand and consent to. For tonight, we’ll do our best to find somewhere comfortable for you to sleep. Under the circumstances, I don’t know if you will prefer human beds, or nests more similar to those in your own… habitats…?”

He trailed off, watching as the Ghidorahs stood. The two on the outside raised their free arms, lifting the blanket—one awkwardly pinching the edge between two fingers and letting the fabric dangle under her arm, the other twisting it over her forearm and holding the corner against her palm with her thumb—like their wings lifted high in a threat display. Voice raspy but clear, the middle one said, “Suck our dick.”

Leaping to his feet, Godzilla snarled, “Shut up or I’ll break your necks.”

Serizawa stared at them. Then he turned and stared out the window at Dr. Chen.

And that was how Monarch found out that the titans could speak English.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original post available on [tumblr](https://ckret2.tumblr.com/post/186998543667/that-fic-where-goji-ghids-and-mothra-get-turned). Comments/reblogs there are very welcome (as are comments here)!
> 
> This is the last chapter written at the moment. I've got more ideas in this setting I _could_ write, but I've also got a billion ideas for _other_ fics, and this one isn't currently in my internal Stories To Write queue. If you wanna read more, link to my tumblr is above, and on my tumblr there's a link to my ko-fi where I take requests.

**Author's Note:**

> Original post available on [tumblr](https://ckret2.tumblr.com/post/186857277992/write-a-story-of-a-magical-transformation). Comments/reblogs there are very welcome (as are comments here)!
> 
> There's a second chapter of this currently on tumblr, I'll upload it here too in a few days.


End file.
